Scream SOLO fin.

Date: Friday, 17 January 2025
Time: Early morning
Location: Lavatory

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Koko woke up with a vengeance and a to-do list early on the morning on 17 January. She dressed quickly, donning a sweater, trousers and a pair of mary janes and rushedly combing her oddly-short hair before heading to the Headliner office, where she intended to get a few managerial tasks done before she had to go for a run, have breakfast and then go to class.

Something about the office in the early morning relaxed her. She could have a strong cup of tea at her desk by herself, alone except for parchment, ink and the darkness. There was no need for fancy appearances so early in the morning; she didn't even wear her usual makeup as she leant over her desk, quill scratching against parchment. She didn't even sit up perfectly straight; she didn't bother to seem perfect as she worked.

Once she had finished her tea, she glanced at her watch and sighed. Time to go for her run.

As she left the office, though, she walked by a storage area, and a flash of green caught her eye. She paused, turning to stare first at one eyeball, then at another, then at two screws. Koko crept closer to the hat, suddenly despising the click of her heels against the floor, suddenly wishing she had at least powdered her face and rouged her cheeks. Anything to armour herself against the barrage of emotions this stupid fucking hat brought to her. The sound of mocking laughter cut through the room, and although Koko knew it was just a memory, she couldn't stop herself from flinching.

She frowned at it and glanced up at the name etched near to it: Oonagh Brown. A newer member to the staff, then. Koko's frown deepened as she wondered how Miss Brown had managed to snag a spot on the Headliner staff with her disgusting personality. Her breathing came sharply as her body ached almost phantomly where the bludger had hit her time after time. She hadn't been hit like that since she was fourteen, and she'd put so much time and effort into making sure it never happened again. She was supposed to be stronger than that, to last longer than that.

And to make matters worse, the idiot who'd caused it was someone she would have to spend more time around. Her breath caught in her throat at the realisation, and her hands clenched into fists at her sides. In the silence of the office, she could hear her breathing come quicker, and her feet moved of her own accord as she aggressively shouldered the door open and burst into the corridors. Her heels clicked against the floor rapidly as she hurried out, out, away, anywhere she wouldn't be seen like this.

Her wandering brought her to the girls' lavatory, where she caught a glimpse of her un-made-up face in the mirror and grimaced. She turned away and instead stared at the wall, then glancing at her hand, which was fine now compared to how it had been during her altercation with this... Miss Brown. Her nails were back to perfection, and any cuts on her fingers had since healed. But it wasn't fine. Her hand shook, and as much as she tried to stop it, she couldn't. By Merlin, she might have to deal with that girl mocking her every time she entered the Headliner Office. She wasn't supposed to be laughed at. She'd come this far and made herself into the type of person who would be remembered, and not for some stupid frog hat wearing worm to put her down.

She didn't even think about it when she let out a small shriek. She had meant to collapse against the wall in her anger, but her hands shot out to catch herself, forcing a jolt through her arms as she stumbled backwards, hands stinging. A bitter laugh spilled out of her lips, and she looked down at her hands, which were now reddened. She shook her hands at the wrist, and her momentary mirth faded as the pinkish tint of her skin did, revealing small cuts the stone had caused.

She heard her rageful screech before she even felt it in her throat. Despite its surprisingly high pitch, she did not shut her mouth until she had exhausted her diaphragm. The sound reverberated throughout the room, and perhaps it should have been a surprise that it did not break glass.

And just like that, all the air in her lungs, all her rage, was gone. Koko stumbled forward and took a ragged breath before pressing herself against the wall to steady herself, the cold, rough stones on her forehead forcing her to ground herself. Slowly, she turned so that her back was against the wall, and she sank down until she was seated on the floor. She leant her head back against the cold wall and took a shaky breath before glancing through half-lidded eyes at her hands once again.

Her fingernail polish was chipped. The realisation made something sink in her chest, and she took a sharp inhale that hurt. With one hand, she pulled the cuff of her sweater's sleeve over her thumbnail and dabbed gently right beneath one of her eyes. The pale green fabric came away slightly damp, and, slowly, Koko frowned.

She got to her feet slowly, cautiously, having to reach out with now-sore hands to a wall that was unforgiving in order to steady herself. Once she was standing at her full height, she crossed her arms over her chest and straightened her posture, planning to at least exist the lavatory seeming put-together once again.

Forget about the run. Her next task was to powder her face, rouge her cheeks and fix her hair — and, of course, to paint her nails once again.

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@Oonagh Brown

fin.